


My Infinite Agony

by QuarantineUploading



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dark, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Good Peter Hale, Hurt Peter Hale, M/M, Peter Needs a Hug, Pre-Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Protective Derek, Slow Build, Stockholm Syndrome, Violence, War, kingdom at war, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 17:27:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19407964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuarantineUploading/pseuds/QuarantineUploading
Summary: Peter Hale is betrothed to the eldest son of a neighboring Kingdom to save his people. The two kingdoms have united under their union, yet life takes a painful turn for the eldest Hale.Or the one in which Chris is the knight in shining armor.





	My Infinite Agony

[Icb]POV: Jocef, Royal Servant

The dining hall was alive with bustling wolves and servants, all preparing the room for the feast that was to come. With the recent joining of the two kingdoms, there would be more dinner participants than ever. 

Amid the chaos was Jocef. The young fellow was in his feral form, using his stout frame to push all of the handcrafted chairs into place around of the custom made table. The black and white Doberman said nothing, as was expected of the Royal Servants to King Ork. 

Not that all listened to the rules. 

A gray pelt brushes against his, making Jocef pause in his work halfway to peer over to a familiar wolf. The female shoots him a dazzling smile before speaking in a hushed voice. 

"We get to meet Prince Rhetteri's bride! Aren't you in the least bit excited?" 

Jocef rolls his crimsons eyes at her joyful tone, leaning forward to once again start pushing at the wooden legs of the seat with a grunt. "Why should I be, Gracey?" He whispers back, voice strained. "Just another bitch to boss us around. Remember all the others? I'm not in the mood for another entitled whore." 

His friend shoots him an unimpressed look, leaning forward to push in the chair he had been working on under the table along with the others with ease. Now he is forced to give her his undivided attention with a sigh. "This one is different. From what the others have said, Prince Hale is a kindhearted creature," she argues, "I met one of his servants today, and she said he's very generous and sweet. Doesn't command, always asks." She pauses before adding in a more solemn voice. "Though...he wouldn't be allowed to order us around even if he wanted to." 

His ears perk at that. Stepping away from the legs of the chair, the Doberman narrows his eyes, shooting Gracey a bewildered glance. "What do you mean? He is a Prince!"

The gray she-wolf gives a little shake of her narrow head. "True. But he only married Lord Rhetteri to save his people from annihilation." She narrows her eyes. "I thought you knew that?"

Before Jocef can speak up, a horn blows from outside of the room. Hissing in alarm, Jocef quickly nudges his friend out of the way and towards the side of the room. "Quickly, Gracey! Let's take our places! They're here early." 

All of the servants morph into their feral forms and make their way to the side of the room, where they line the walls one by one. Gracey and Jocef claim a spot just across from where the prince's would be seated. 

Okay. Maybe he was a bit curious to meet Prince Hale. 

The doors to the dining hall open with a slam, and all heads bow when the proud framing of the King steps inside. The bulky man wastes no time in making his way to the front of the table on the other side of the room, where the largest seat sat. Pulling out his chair, he remained standing. 

"King Ork," one of the Royal Servants calls from the entryway, bowing deeply over the waist. "Introducing your son, Prince Rhetteri, and his bride hailing from the Northern lands, Prince Hale. Also known as Peter." 

The servant steps out of the way, and two figures step in through the entrance. The first one Jocef noticed was a tall man, broad with powerful muscles that poked through the Royal Armor in which he wore constantly. Deep crimson red eyes stared straight ahead, void of any discernable emotion or feeling. His stubbled face caressed a square jaw and a battle scarred face once handsome but now a ruined perfection. Short black hair lay slicked back. 

He was...

Terrifying. Even for an Alpha.

Everything about him radiated anger. 

Shuddering, the servant slips his eyes to the one walking beside of him, and almost immediately Jocef is filled with shock. 

The person had pale skin that shone bone white in the lighting, cheeks and shoulders splattered with speckles of gold paint. Rounded glacier blue eyes sat upon a face easy on the eyes of the beholder. His wavy chestnut hair lay pulled back in the same manner od his husband's. He wore a thin white cloth that hung from his hips, flowing down to his knees though slitted on the side to completely expose his left thigh, in which was ringed with gold bands around the flesh. Jocef was surprised to see even more gold dappling the legs. More gold bands could be seen around the man's upper arms, wrists, ankles, and even his throat. A princess attire remade entirely to fit the gender in which Prince Rhetteri had to marry. Yet there was something different...something that set him apart from Rhetteri's previous brides-

His age. Though he wasn't as old as the King, he most definitely was not as young as the Prince, who sat at a comfortable 30. 

Breathless, Jocef watches them take their place on either side of the King, who sits down when the other members of the family join. 

The dining room goes quiet as chefs pour in to place the extravagant meal on the table before their sires, paying their respects before disappearing. The meal smelled heavenly, and the Doberman had to stop himself from licking away the drool that now seeped from the confines of his mouth. 

Prince Rhetteri's husky voice has all eyes snapping to his tense figure. He sat glaring across the table at his husband, who shifted in discomfort under his smoldering gaze. "Father, this is Peter," he sneers. "Peter, sweetheart, this is my Father. Show respect or you'll be finding sweet company with the skeletons that rot in the dungeons beneath us."

There are a few muffled gasps from the others at the table. 

Jocef frowns deeply, hunger forgotten. Did Rhetteri really hate Prince Hale that much? 

King Ork growls low under his throat, giving his eldest son a warning glare before turning to the prince in question. 

Peter doesn't meet his stare, staring down at his hands folded in his lap bleekly. "A pleasure to finally meet you, My Lord," he recites in a quiet voice, melodic to the ears yet ridden with lament. 

The king seemed pleased by his greeting, face stretching into a wide grin. "No no, the pleasure is mine. As my son-in-law, there is no need for all this fancy talk. Please, call me Ork. You are one of the family now." 

The blue-eyed beta seems to come out of his shell a little at the king's jolly words, the corners of his plush lips curling upward in a soft smile. "Your kindness is a welcomed treat," he responds, finally lifting his head though not quite meeting him in the eye. "Gratitude." 

King Ork flashes his newest son with a dazzling smile. "No need for thanks, doll. Thank me by eating this delicious food." To the rest of the table he lifts his hands in a go-ahead gesture. "Let us eat!" 

Jocef makes it a point to not watch the Royals as they ate. His own stomach rumbled in anticipation, as servants always ate the leftovers of large functions. This time would be no different, as there was sure to be plenty leftover. 

As his eyes wandered, they fell upon the tense form of a large wolf standing erect just behind of the King's gold-encrusted chair, dead eyes staring straight ahead. Hardly breathing it seemed. 

Krieger des Feuer. The Warrior of Fire...

Jocef isn't sure where the skull-headed beast came from. One day she had just walked in as a new recruit, but soon he and others realized she wasn't like the rest. She quickly worked her way up the ranks, and now she held the highest of all; the Royal Chief of Guards. It was she that kept a close eye on the King, she alone that commanded those closest to his Highness. A most honorable rank. 

She was strict and serious, hardly ever batting an eye at the war that raged around of the Kingdom. Krieger was almost as terrifying as Rhetteri, if not more. 

Shuddering, Jocef quickly averts his eyes. He made a silent promise to never get on her bad side, to never find out why she was known as the Warrior of Fire. 

The sounds of smacking and cutlery scraping across porcelain plates had ceased, and the impatient canine finds himself staring at Prince Hale once again before he could help himself. 

The prince had barely touched his food, having resorted to his earlier meek position of staring down at his lap. From across the table, Rhetteri seemed to be completely ignoring him altogether, joking and laughing boisteriously with his younger brothers. 

"I told you," Gracey whispers ever so softly into his ear. In a more discreet voice, she adds, "You believe me now?" 

Oh yes. He could see it now for sure. This was not a happy marriage afterall of two Princes from different kingdoms falling in love. 

This was an arranged marriage to save another kingdom from annihilation. And neither party were happy about it.  
.

.

.

POV: Peter, Flower Prince

He's angry again. 

I suppose I should feel lucky. He never takes his anger out on me. Never raises his hand against me. Yet. His other brides before him had not been so lucky. 

I play my cards right, I won't end up like them, hanging from the shackles that held them up in their small cells. They were considered traitors to the King, sentenced to rot for their crimes against the Kingdom. What they did, you ask? 

They spoke up against Rhetteri. 

I will not be like them. They were betrothed willingly, with no goal or purpose in mind except prosperity and wealth. But my people are depending on me, this...marriage is the only thing keeping them from their doomed fate. I must not lose myself or I will doom them all...  
.  
.  
.

"-Gets taken care of. And for what? For them to throw it back in our faces with spite? Ungrateful peasants," the Dark Prince sneers, pacing the corridor with long strides. 

Peter watches him with round eyes from his spot against the wall, hands folded neatly behind of him. His husband had been ranting ever since the dinner had ended, and it was beginning to sour his mood. 

He said nothing, keeping reign of his tongue whenever the agitated Prince glared his way. This was of no business to him, he was merely there to listen. 

Apparently, Prince Rhetteri had taken some initiative and set up Soup Stalls for those in need of a warm meal for the day. Something he didn't do often. To be quite honest, the beta felt he only did it to keep up the image of a loyal and kind Prince, but the villagers knew better. They saw right through his facade. On this rare occassion, as he was handing out the dishes, a starved plebian spit in it and threw it at the King's heirs' feet, cursing him for feeding them 'poison.' 

He was executed moments later. 

Rhett paces for a few minutes longer but eventually comes to a rest in front of his bride, who dares not to look up at him. 

The two were nearly chest to chest now, and Peter felt as though he was going to vomit his heart up. He did his best not to squirm in discomfort, though his bottom lip trembled when cold fingers grasp at his jaw and chin. 

The alpha uses his grip to tilt Peter's face upwards, now having no choice but to stare up into those smoldering crimson eyes. 

"I asked you a question. When I speak to you, I expect an answer." 

The growled statement has Peter's gut dropping. He was so lost in thought, he hadn't heard. Not knowing what to say, he winces when the grip tightens. He feels his jaw creak with protest. 

Rhetteri's top lip curls in what the smaller prince could only describe as disgust. "Figures I'd be trapped to a dunce for the rest of my life. I asked you if you would like to take a stroll, but now I'm thinking it would be best if you stayed indoors. Where my guards can keep a better eye on you." 

That's all? 

Peter gives a small nod, the best he could without the movement hurting anymore than it already did. "Anything you desire, my Lord." 

This seemed to satiate the annoyed Heir slightly, enough so that he released Peter's chin with a scoff. "Wise answer, flower boy." 

Peter breathes a brief sigh of relief, residing the urge to touch his throbbing jaw for any sort of relief. That had gone better than he had hoped. 

But for how long could he keep doing this? 

"I expect to see you promptly in my bed tonight before the bell strikes at midnight, there are important matters we must discuss. Until then, explore the palace if you will. But-" Rhett cocks his head with a dangerous flash of his eyes, gnashing his teeth to get his point across, "If I recieve any complaints concerning you, expect due consequences." 

The eldest Hale nods again, dropping his glowing blue gaze immediately to the floor with a small sigh under his breath. A prince with prisoner liberties, great. He could only imagine what Rhett had in store for him when they reached the bedroom. But that wasn't for another few hours. He still had time- 

Time for what, exactly? He couldn't just up and leave. Escape was near impossible, and what of his people? Was he so selfish that he would abandon them to be slaughtered like mere cattle? Absolutely not. 

His older sister, Queen Talia, arranged this marriage so that their kingdom may prosper. And upon the eve of her death when the illness had finally taken its toll, the kingdom's had merged. 

Does he despise his sister for choosing him to wed King Ork's eldest son? Of course. Did he regret agreeing to it? Perhaps. But he could not bring himself to hate her. She had done what she thought was best for the people, and would have gone through with it whether he had said yes or not. 

So it was best he got used to the way things were now. 

After all, he only had three hours left.


End file.
